Welcome to my musings. I have meant to say a lot of things out loud, but then often don't. I used to find it impossible to speak out loud because I was told what I had to say wasn't interesting. My silence reminds me even now of the words of a Canadian poet (maybe someone can remind me of her name?**) that resonated for me.
She said; 'I write because I cannot sing...'.
I wonder if this poet was responding to Maya Angelou's Why the Caged Bird Sings? Was she trying to understand her own silence against Angelou's courageous trill; because 'If I don't know the confines of my narrow cage, how dare I sing?!'.
My musings are perhaps then an attempt to map the confines of my own narrow cage. I seek to describe my understanding of the cartography of my own suffering in the hopes that my words resonate internally for you.
And because I cannot sing them into you.
*Nod to Michael Ondaatje's book 'The Collected Works of Billy the Kid: Left-Handed Poems'.
**I will find that poem!